


Hêtairêkôs

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Accidental Incarnation, Adult Colonello (Reborn!), Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Consensual Bestiality, Dino is a Deity, Hêtairêkôs, M/M, Other, POV Dino, Ritual Deflowering, Ritual Sex, Sacrifices, Service Kink, Skies as Potential Gods, Starts Pre-Fated Day, Temple Concubine, sex rites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: The word doesn't translate exactly, but it's the best one he can think of to describe Colonello, at least until he gets permission to claim him as his consort.





	Hêtairêkôs

**Author's Note:**

> Hêtairêkôs - ancient greek; 'kept boy' is an imprecise translation. I didn't intend to use it as much as I did in this story but I couldn't settle on a translation of the concept I was using.
> 
> Colonello is in his mid-twenties in this; Dino is a five millennia-old horse deity

He’s radiant, all unblemished skin, glistening with oil, a perfect sacrifice for one of the old gods, and all his; he could even smell the scent of one of the mares his worshippers kept on the boy’s skin and it went straight to his own cock. He circles the altar carefully, checking that the blindfold the rite ordained was still firmly in place; there were two ways this would traditionally go. Either he would come and take the offering, or his worshippers would partake in it, and both ways pleased him. 

He trails fingers across the golden skin and admires the way the boy shivers with the tension. “So why are you here, little one? What blessing do you seek?” Because for such a gift he’d raze the world to the ground.

“Survival, sir.” The single word is gasped, and he raises an eyebrow. That was a surprisingly complicated blessing his new hêtairêkôs wanted, and a costly one, too. But he had time and energy, and keeping his sacrifice whole would be rather rewarding.

“What do you need to survive?” The boy’s lips were plush and he could just imagine sliding his cock past them; it would take time and patience to teach him to deep throat it - or a little gift - but watching him try would be a delightful experience, and there was nothing like the tightness of a human throat as his new hêtairêkôs tried to figure out how to allow him to fuck all of his holes.

“There’s another god. Hungry, prowling around my military base. I’d rather feed you than him; you look after the Family, sir.” He could work with that. His seed in his hêtairêkôs would do as a _very_ pleasant start to ward off the aggressor. 

He retrieves the oil from its shelf, pleased that the boy’s taken so much care to prepare the altar and its environs, and slicks his fingers with it, allowing his fire, pale orange, to flicker over them before he circles the tight hole between his new hêtairêkôs’ cheeks with it. He doesn’t flinch, but the muscles are tight and tense, and he’ll have to do something about that (but he likes that tenseness; it means that his sacrifice is probably virgin even to himself). “Relax …?”

“Colonello, sir.” He lets his fire sink into the muscles, ensuring that his pretty sacrifice is clean all the way through, and rubs at the little opening gently. 

“Do you understand what you’re offering me?” He’s been infected by the age they live in; once upon a time merely laying on the altar would have been consent enough for him, but now he wants to _hear_ it. 

“Yes. Researched it -“ He falls on him hungrily, driving one of his fingers past the resisting muscle as he drags the boy up and into a kiss. Colonello whimpers, melting into him and he curls his finger, searching for the spot that’ll make his sacrifice _crave_ his cock inside him. He keeps that single finger moving while he teaches his new hêtairêkôs how to kiss, how to open to him, and he’s delighted to find a natural streak of submission that will make him a beautiful consort. He might even have to petition to _keep_ Colonello; he was sure he could persuade the others to allow it.

One finger is easy to turn into two, especially with the way Colonello is panting into his mouth, cock twitching against the strong arm supporting half the boy’s weight, and he grins, beckoning against that spot he’s found. Colonello makes the sweetest noise when he does so, and he repeats the action a half dozen times until there’s slick pre-cum leaking from his pretty toy’s cock. He curls and presses and flares his Flames, and Colonello cums all over him; it relaxes the muscles further, and he slips a third finger into him. He’d need to stretch him even further though; a millennium and a half of specialising in watching over horses had done some interesting things to his anatomy. Four fingers would do for his entrance, but deeper would require him to take things easy; he couldn’t reach far enough to make any real difference without a lot more time and patience, so he’d just have to use his cock to open him and hope that he wouldn’t do more permanent damage than that required to reshape him to take it.

“A little bit more hêtairêkôs-mine. I just need to make sure your body knows how to stretch; I prefer my sacrifices to enjoy their claiming, unlike some of the others.” His pretty new plaything shivers, and nods, and bears down on the fingers currently spreading him open, blindly mouthing at his shoulder searching for a point to anchor himself against. “You’ll need to come back to me regularly, after all, and it’s much more fun for me if you do all the work.” And if his pretty toy waited too long, he’d find every stallion in his proximity trying to mount him, an unfortunate side effect of what he was about to do.

That would have to do; he was running out of patience. His fingers pop free of the barely stretched hole with a lascivious sound, and he manhandles Colonello into position, lifting him enough to allow the head of his cock to settle into place against the opening he was about to claim. 

He lets gravity do most of the work, and swallows the pretty, desperate sounds his new toy makes as he slides down his cock millimeter by millimeter. There’s resistance, but the oil he’s using has blessed properties, and he’d stretched the protective ring enough that while it was a _very_ snug fit for the column of his cock nothing was going to tear. He mets a second band of resistance with a third of his cock inside of Colonello, and drags the boy into a kiss as he rocks his hips, trying to find the right angle to get around the slight bend that was trying to keep him from sinking all the way into his pretty toy. 

It surrenders eventually, and Colonello makes a broken little sound as he abruptly slides down the remainder of his cock, his body wrapping around it snugly, and oh, that was perfect. It was going to be hard to let him go back out into the world, even if he would need to return once a moon-cycle for more of his seed. (He wonders if his new hêtairêkôs found that requirement in his research, or if he’d get to find it out the hard way?) 

“You’re perfect, little one. That’s the whole thing; I wasn’t sure if you would manage it.” He allows one of his hands to investigate the stretched rim of his new hêtairêkôs, finding it swollen and warm to the touch, and he rubs at it gently, a touch of his divine fire soothing it into compliance, resetting its resting state to account for his presence, and then lifts Colonello, withdrawing a third of his length and letting him drop back onto it. He repeats that action over and over again, until Colonello is blindly clawing at him, and then shifts them both until his hêtairêkôs can lay back on the altar properly and he can let go, pounding into him properly. His cum will seal the bargain, and he has every intention of forcing it deep inside his sacrifice. (He hasn’t allowed himself a human since the sacrifices had stopped, though there had been the occasional mare when he was transformed.) 

His cock flares and Colonello screams, more in pleasure than anything else, and his balls empty themselves into the waiting body with a fiery rush that startles him in its strength and duration, and he tries to pull out only to find that Colonello’s body is too tight to withdraw from while he’s flared. Instead, he watches in disbelief as the blond swells in response to his orgasm, body convulsing in pleasure as his abdomen domes. It’s a fucking pretty sight, and he wonders how long it will last, and whether he’ll be able to teach his hêtairêkôs to take even more in the future? 

His cock softens, tip relaxing from it’s flared state and he eases it free of his hêtairêkôs carefully, expending just a little of his divine fire to stop his seed from oozing out of Colonello; wasting it on his altar wouldn’t aid his sacrifice. The ritual was almost done; he just needed to teach his pretty boy to suck his cock, and remind him to return before the next full moon, and then he could investigate which of the others were currently actively seeking sacrifices.

He twitches his fingers, smug at the way his own strength has been significantly enhanced by the value of the sacrifice he’s received, and summons and fits a small object into his hêtairêkôs’ fluttering, broken hole. His sacrifice enjoyed the job he was training for, and it would do no good for the medics to find evidence of what he’d sacrificed for his survival. It dissolves in a shimmer of light, and Colonello makes a sound that goes straight to his cock as his hole closes up in front of his eyes. He’ll just be able to pull him onto his cock now, without any need for preparation and he’s almost tempted to do so, but he has more training for Colonello to complete first.

“Worship me, Colonello.” His hêtairêkôs slides off the altar and kneels between his legs, and he brushes those petal soft lips with his thumb. “Don’t worry; I cleaned you out before I took you, and I don’t expect you to be an expert; this is a chance for you to _learn_ to please me, and to earn yourself even more of my seed and power in your belly.” His hêtairêkôs licks at the tip of his cock curiously, and then with more confidence as Colonello realises that their combined flavour is sweet and addictive rather than bitter.

He lets his hands drop into soft blond hair, guiding Colonello gently into suckling at the tip, coaxing him into taking more of it, enjoying the way his tongue moves against his length.

“You’re doing well, Colonello; use your tongue a little more, and make sure you keep breathing. Like I made sure your hole would stretch, I’ll keep your palate from making you gag. I promise you won’t suffocate while I feed you.” Colonello hums an acknowledgement, and he sets a slow rolling pace that works his cock deeper and deeper into his hêtairêkôs’ mouth; his fire coats the back of Colonello’s mouth, slicking and protecting it and he pushes past what Colonello probably thinks his limit, and into his throat. 

Colonello’s throat is hot and tight, perhaps even more so than his ass, and it takes all of his will power not to drive himself into the hilt. As tempting as it is, he needs to take it slowly, and allow the bypasses to form; he wants the ability to keep his cock hilted in Colonello’s throat rather than needing to let him up to breathe. Stupid human anatomy with its crossed trachea and esophagus; if he didn’t make sure he was in the right half of his boy’s throat, it would be messy, and drowning his hêtairêkôs would be a waste of the sacrifice he’d been offered.

Colonello chokes around his cock as he crosses his trachea but keeps breathing, the bypass taking successfully - it had other uses, like an ability to breathe in hostile environments - and he pets him gently, hand caressing his now swollen throat. “Perfect. Can you feel the way you’ve stretched for me? I’ve got a little more to feed you; I need to breach one more barrier, and then we’ll be done with modifying you for your new … job.” Colonello whimpers, the vibrations around his cock delicious, and he holds the blond’s head in place and rolls his hips, battering at the barrier he wanted to pass through, and then he’s through, and fuck, he’s so tight. “Keep breathing. I fixed your other hole when you’d taken what I gave you, and I’ll never send you away damaged, Colonello.” 

He ignores the whimpers and the slight resistance and fucks the blond’s throat with reckless abandon, searching for his pleasure - it’s not entirely selfish; his seed has power, and demarks a claim that the others will see - and he finds it when Colonello chokes again, and he hisses and cums, fingers tight in blond hair. Fuck if he knows why his ejaculate is coming in such volume, but getting to see Colonello on his knees, swelling further as he swallows and it’s perfect. He’s almost tempted to keep him like this, for his pleasure, but part of what makes his sacrifice is so valuable is everything he will bring to him, which means letting him leave - even if he will return again.

He pulls Colonello off his cock, gently, and presses a kiss to the corner of his hêtairêkôs’ mouth, and then pushes his fingers in in his cock’s place, pouring some of his fire into the cavity he’d created to make sure he wouldn’t have to deal with curious medics or pain from what he’d done. He kisses Colonello again, gentle, adoring, and then steps back from his thoroughly claimed sacrifice. “Summon me before the month is done, Colonello; my claim will fade from your skin without reinforcement, and I cannot defend you without it. You may want to ensure you’re somewhere private, with a bed, preferably, when you do so. A drop of blood on this -” he pulls a metal statue of one of his stallions from thin air, “- will be enough.”

—-

The tug of being summoned sends arousal shooting up his spine and curling in the base of his belly; it has his cock erect and ready to re-mark his hêtairêkôs as his. He relaxes into the summoning and reappears in his hêtairêkôs’ room on the base; he looks around it noting its comparatively bare state and the cot in the corner. He throws up a barrier, stilling the passage of time in his immediate vicinity before he turns to his hêtairêkôs, currently kneeling before him, and lifting his pretty blond toy back to his feet. “Impatient, Colonello? I wasn’t expecting you to summon me for another week, yet.”

His hêtairêkôs is already naked, flushed and pretty, and he allows himself a chance to admire his lean male form. His eyebrows rise in astonishment when he realises he’s already corrupted his sacrifice enough that there’s a snug band around the base of his boy’s cock and balls, cutting off his ability to orgasm easily, and oh, he likes that. The idea of his hêtairêkôs only being able to cum from stimulation of his ass is almost enough to convince him to geld the boy, but that was a modification too hard to hide from modern medics. “We had a week focused on cavalry techniques.”

He swallows the snicker, and instead cups his sacrifice’s jaw with one of his big hands, enjoying the boy’s smooth skin and the way he turned his head to nuzzle into it. “And the stallions were rather friendly?”

“Mhmm.” He plants a kiss on the corner of his boy’s mouth, and uses his free hand to cup Colonello’s ass, pulling him snug against his body.

“Sacrifice’s choice, sweetheart. How do you want me first?” He’s used his newly reinvigorated powers carefully, husbanding his strength to ensure he’ll be able to fill his hêtairêkôs to slightly beyond the boy’s natural limits. 

“Throat, _please_, sir.” Who is he to argue with his boy; what he hadn’t said was that while he’d let Colonello take what he needed for the first round, the second round would be at his pleasure and by his method and he rather fancied mounting his hêtairêkôs like the mare he smelled of. He’d force himself inside the boy hard and fast, trusting that the bend would allow him to pass it and rutting into him until the boy’s belly touched the floor and he begged for mercy.

“Then kneel and worship, sweetheart. Demonstrate everything I taught you last time we did this, and receive your reward for your diligence.” Colonello does just that, kneeling for him in the most delightful fashion; he’s obviously been practicing the maneuver in his absence. His hêtairêkôs is pretty on his knees, and has clearly been studying a wide variety of the available materials because his posture is perfect. Colonello’s tongue flicks out to steal the bead of pre-cum from the tip of his cock, and then teases at the underside of it, tormenting the sensitive flesh there before he first kisses and then sucks the head of it into his hot, tight, wet and sinful mouth. 

It’s tight and hot and perfect, and he drops his hands into the blond’s hair to hold him in place and prevent him from retreating from his worship. Colonello needs no such restraint, eager to swallow it and provide him with pleasure. His cock slips easily into the tight confines of his hêtairêkôs’ esophagus and he rolls his hips lazily, teasing the tight final barrier with the head of his cock. His fire had made it sensitive, made its stimulation - at least by his cock - its own reward, and Colonello screams around his cock as he punches through it, his fire protecting both of them. 

He holds Colonello there, shifting his hips in small, lazy movements, enjoying the way the tight ring of muscles he’d forced to dilate worked the top of his shaft, stimulating some of his most sensitive flesh to the point where it would take very little to bring him to orgasm. His devious little sacrifice provides the ‘push’ he needs by pressing one slick finger to where his opening should be. His body responds, starting the process of making it possible for his sacrifice to service him, too, but primarily it pours his pleasure into his hêtairêkôs’ belly, forcing it to expand to a point bordering on the edge of pain.

When he eases his cock from Colonello’s throat, his sacrifice is a dazed, swollen mess, with tears at the corners of his eyes and his lips puffy and red. He drops to his own knees in front of Colonello to sweep his hands over the taut skin of his abdomen, and purrs at his hêtairêkôs’ response to his touch. 

“Hands and knees, Colonello.” His sacrifice scrambles to turn over and assume the position, and he summons one of the cushions from the bed so that when, inevitably, Colonello’s limbs stopped supporting him, he’d remain in an appropriate position for hard use. He tucks the cushion under Colonello and then lines himself up and presses the head of his cock against the opening to his hêtairêkôs’ body. It gives, just as intended, and he thrusts the full length of his cock into Colonello with one smooth movement, barely feeling any resistance to the motion. 

Colonello begs him, already incoherent, high on the divine fire seeping into his system from the seed in his belly, and he obliges him, setting a vicious pace as he seeks more of his own pleasure in his sacrifice’s lithe form. He finds it, when Colonello’s body spasms around him, smooth muscle constricting tight around his cock, and he pumps more of his fluids into his pretty sacrifice. Not enough to achieve his initial wish to see his lovely hêtairêkôs so swollen that he looks pregnant. 

His cock twitches, the process of softening rapidly reversing to the point where, if anything, he’s harder than he’d been before he’d let Colonello kneel for him. He drapes himself over his hêtairêkôs’ back and presses sharp kisses to the column of his neck, rutting his cock into the snug, slick hole that fit him _perfectly_. “Not done yet, sweetheart. There’s still space inside you for my seed.” Colonello whines, but maintains his position perfectly, despite the extra weight on his back even as he rolls his hips, trying to work himself even deeper into his already swollen hêtairêkôs’s body. “Relax. I want to see if I can get any deeper into your pretty form; I thought you might like the extra stimulation.” 

“You feel like you’re in my stomach already -”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near that far inside you. I _could_ be, though.” Colonello shivers at the almost threat, hips tilting to allow him a better angle. He takes thorough advantage of the extra depth to fuck Colonello with punishingly hard thrusts that batter at his pretty boy’s limits, and allows his divine fire to sink into his cock, causing it to swell and lengthen further. Colonello whines as he does just what he’d threatened too, and fuck that felt good; his hêtairêkôs’s body is incredibly tight around his, made all the more so by his increase in volume and the slick seed that was trying to occupy the available space. Colonello gasps, breath bubbling as he tries to move with the strokes, but that’s not what he wants from his hêtairêkôs right now. He just wants compliance and a warm, willing _swollen_ body capable of taking more of his seed. He presses deeper, pulls on the pool of power his seed represents and Colonello shrieks and his sheath spasms tight, milking him, and the suction is exquisite. 

The head of his cock flares and he pours his pleasure into his hêtairêkôs, Colonello whining as his body is forced to stretch to accommodate it all. When he pulls out and turns Colonello over, his pretty sacrifice has a silly grin on his lips and his belly so swollen that he could pass for being six months gone, and he hums in amusement at that thought; it would take him years to gather enough strength to make that possible, but he could wait. That was the nature of the sacrifice after all; what he did with Colonello, beyond ensuring he survived, was entirely up to him.

(But he’d always been a benevolent lover to his sacrifices, and given what he could feel from the area around Colonello’s base, he was by far the better choice. Kawahira was _notorious_ for how he consumed those he claimed, and he had very few compunctions about how he acquired the necessary consent.)

He lifts Colonello up, careful not to jostle him, and tucks the blond into his bed, brushing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. Once that’s done, he releases his hold on the flow of time within his hêtairêkôs’ space, and redresses himself in the illusion of one of the uniforms in Colonello’s space. While he was fairly sure that the influence that had driven Colonello to lay on his altar was the old Mist - there were suspicions about how he’d managed to achieve divinity, given the tainted nature of his godhood - he’d double-check. No need to tip his hand too early, after all.

* * *

Kawahira hides his tracks alarmingly well, and it leaves him wondering - even as he races to get to Colonello - how many other gods’ claims the old Mist has circumvented. If the reason for the Mist’s divinity is the consumption of other gods, the way that some of the old, imperial families - the godborn lines - subvert and consume divine candidates to keep themselves strong. No _new_ gods had come out of Italy, or Japan, or any of the other countries with truly old ruling houses, in a very, very long time. Court customs tied them to mortality in return for earthly favour, and the others faded, no longer worshipped, and it had been decades since he’d last broken bread with one of the others.

He doesn’t make the summit of what had once been Mount Olympus in time. 

There are eight chibis on the top of the mountain, one grotesque in her pregnancy, but he ignores her in favour of his hêtairêkôs, and swears as he realises that the curse has taken despite his seed still being present inside Colonello. There’s a second female chibi unconscious by him, and a gentle probe of the pacifiers make it clear that the curse on his hêtairêkôs is warped and twisted compared to the straightforward version on the others; they were merely to be consumed, their souls slowly shredded to bolster Kawahira. But there was a hole, a gap, the curse trying to consume two souls when it only had the ability to take one - the curse on the god-candidate had been adjusted to account for her child, a component added to make it heritable - and he rams everything that makes him a god into that loophole and uses it to break as much of the curse as he can.

It’s not enough. Kawahira is old and cunning, and used to eating god-candidates; the curse snaps back when he runs out of strength, leaves him dazed, and panting for breath next to his hêtairêkôs, the pacifier still around his throat, but his boy has returned to adult form, at least.

He fades out and wakes up back in his hêtairêkôs’s barrack-room, and groans at the head-splitting pain as his vision wavers and he has to process seeing two things at once. One half of him is a stallion, running with the herd he spends most time with and the other is in the barrack-room, and his perspective in both spaces is all wrong. “What the fuck happened, sir?”

“You got caught in another god’s attempt to perform a sacrifice. I got you out of it, mostly, but there were some consequences.” The words are hard to form and he groans, lifting one of his hands, and fuck he hadn’t been this small for five _millennia_. “How old do I look?”

“Under two.”

“Fuck.” He tries to twist his divinity into familiar shapes, to reunite the two disparate halves of himself and fails. “Shit. I broke something when I was trying to deal with the curse. I can’t - I need you to take me to the Family. If this is what I think it is, I’m going to have to grow up again. Fuck -”

“… what about -”

“Hopefully it’ll be negated until I get older -” he doubts they’ll be so lucky; he hadn’t realised how monstrously powerful Kawahira had become with his perverse method of seeking sacrifices. “- but given the likely location of Don Cavallone, we can test it easily enough; it’s been almost a month, so if the stallions are still interested in you, we need to come up with a solution.”

At least he could still experience pleasure as a stallion; he shivers as his other half sniffs at one of the herd’s mares, and mounts her when she presents for him. It’s hot and the way his human form refuses to react is frustrating. And disorientating; he felt like he should have four legs, and this was going to get weird, fast. 

“I can get a leave pass in the morning.” Colonello looks half terrified, and he tilts his head, widening his eyes in an expression intended to look unspeakable cute and coax his sacrifice into speaking whatever thought he’d just had. “You are potty-trained, right?”

“My mind’s still whole, which should help. And they potty trained young when I was this size before.” There’s definite relief on his sacrifice’s face. He slips down off the cot, stretching and trying to ignore the weirdly doubled sensations. He barely comes up to Colonello’s thigh, and he refines his estimate for his age as he toddles over to him. “That said, where _is_ the bathroom?”

He resists the urge to terrorise his sacrifice after he’s dealt with his bladder; he suspected the man knew what the solution to him being unable to perform in _this_ form was, and he wasn’t going to add to any anxiety about it. (Or, given the changes his godhood had wrought to the man, push him over the edge into estrus. He’d learned his lesson about asking before he induced that state three millennia ago.) 

The morning goes almost to plan; the non-pregnant female chibi proves to have been one of the senior trainers - attached to COMBUSIN from one of the other NATO forces, no less - on the base and the administrative offices were like a kicked beehive as a result, given Colonello was overdue to take leave, one of the clerks shoved a pass at him almost before he could ask for it, allowing him to sneak out almost unnoticed, with him hiding in his bergen-rucksack. 

Don Cavallone takes him in, surprisingly willingly; the cover story that he’s the current Don’s bastard - there’s no Donna Cavallone, and from the looks exchanged between the man and his hands, there’s unlikely to _be_ one - easily settling into place, explaining why the man was presenting an eighteen month old baby Sky as his heir, rather than a newborn.

Of course, given that the Cavallone were _his_ Family, the shrine in the chapel - syncreticism was an interesting concept, one that he’d learned to live with to keep his worshippers safe from the Roman church - and the fact they also watched over his herds, wild and domestic, his other half finds it easy enough to join him on the estate. Given the lack of mothers in the household it takes him less than a week to be put on the back of stallion-self, and oh, that was so much better than having to walk; he had the right number of limbs for his senses, and the viewpoints merged and sanity was in no way over-rated.

More complicated is the way the horses respond to Colonello, and the fact that the pacifier starts to drain him again as his hêtairêkôs clears his seed and fire from his body. Which leaves him with one option. Even if he was stuck in the form of a toddler, his stallion-self _wasn’t_. And had divine fire woven into his mane. He’d taken sacrifices this way, when he was younger, and higher strong and the world wilder; it killed as often as it worked, but it had been the only method he had when a sacrifice wasn’t a virgin - but that had been a very, very long time ago, when the republic had been new, and how was he supposed to ask for and arrange it? But he’d promised Colonello he’d survive, and the curse was eating at his _soul_.

Fuck. 

He scrubs his eyes, and pulls on the sleeve of the bodyguard he’d conned out of his adoptive father - he’d never expected to find a potential high priest during this mess, but Romario fitted him almost perfectly; the gap, the imperfection was on his end, and with his chibi-state, not the young Sun’s - and widens his eyes into his best manipulative fashion. “Romario? Colonello needs something that might weird you out a bit. Will you help?”

Romario tilts his head, and sighs, picking him up. “Is he your Rain, or is there something else going on?”

“Something else. I need to tell you a story, I think. But maybe in the chapel? I need some um, pictorial aids.” The young Sun obliges, carrying him into the family chapel, and to the small side altar that was dedicated to the saint he’d been turned into to become acceptable to the Church. It was a truly old altar though, one repurposed from its _proper_ state, which meant that his touch brought it alive, and he could use it to explain. He activates it, letting it catch up and test Romario, and settles into one of the pews and drops into his stallion-self’s mind. He spends the next hour coaxing his stallion’s herd closer to one of the oak groves that would work at a pinch for the sacred space needed; it wasn’t _essential_, but the more he could do to help keep Colonello alive, the better he was going to feel about what he was about to do. 

“You’re kidding.” Romario’s voice is flat, and Dino pulls a face. “Please tell me that that alternate rite was a joke.”

“You know I’m a five-thousand-year-old god, and how I ended up this size, right?” Romario nods, warily. “Then, no, it isn’t a joke. It’s the terrifyingly old version of what Colonello _voluntarily_ submitted to a year ago when he became my consort, and it’s the only way I can remark him so the curse that’s affecting both of us doesn’t eat his soul. Will you help? I don’t need you to watch or participate in anything other than the preparation and aftercare phases, but I’m a little small to manage the precautions.” Romario’s cheeks go very pink. “Colonello can take my adult cock easily, but a stallion’s is a third bigger still, and he’s running out of my blessing, meaning you’ll need to help him lubricate manually, and ensure he’s properly secured so that my stallion soul can mount him safely.” 

Romario sighs and covers his eyes with his hands. “Do you know how inappropriate this conversation feels? You look like you’re eighteen months old, behave it most of the time, and you’re instructing me to tie a cousin up - preferably to the sort of fake mare we use for collecting sperm from the stallions - and fist him so he can take a horse cock to save his soul? And that we’ll need to do it monthly until you can maintain an erection again, and/or he gets pregnant. From being fucked by a _horse_.”

“If it helps, the horse is also divine and sentient?”

“It does actually.”

“Good. Because Colonello’s behind you, and we should probably get things started before Kawahira eats any more of his soul.” Romario at least resists the urge to jump, turn his head, or flinch, and that took discipline and training. “Are you okay with my plan Colonello?”

“As I can be. Though pregnancy, really?”

“Birthing a demi-god permanently marks you, so it _should_ work. Depends on how virulent the curse actually is. And it’s not like you can stay with COMBUSIN -” that wasn’t his decision; that had been taken out of his hands by Lal’s report to the base. The pacifier that represented the curse was impossible to remove, and while if she hadn’t come back in chibi form, they could have explained it as some sort of family relic and figured out how to conceal it enough for missions, with her hysterically babbling in the infirmary, he’d been medically discharged. “- But I have talked to Don Cavallone, and he’s willing to nominate you to lead the defense forces on Mafia Island. it’s not as prestigious as COMBUSIN, but I suspect you’ll have plenty of fun.”

“Especially if you offer training; an independent-ish trainer would be a godsend for most of the smaller families; they end up having to deal with the supernatural with whatever they can scrape together and they lose a _lot_ of men in the process.”

“Huh. Maybe I will then. But we need to see if this’ll work first, -”

“Dino. I’m Dino for the next thirty years or so, Colonello. And of everyone, you deserve to be allowed to use it.” Colonello goes adorably pink, and he resists the urge to coo; if he was adult-sized he’d push him to his knees and fuck his throat, and see what Romario thought of that, and whether he wanted to learn how to do it, too. He’d have to settle for sitting cross-legged and immersing himself in his stallion-self’s mind, and maybe Romario would submit voluntarily when he saw how much Colonello enjoyed himself. Romario sighs, and picks him up, before leading the way out of the building and to the horses; the ride out to the grove he’s picked out goes quickly and silently, and his stallion-self is waiting there, and he slips out of Romario’s grip to go and commune with himself while Colonello and Romario stare at each other and set things up for the ritual. By the time he’s done with his meditation - and gods, realising that the curse had severed him from his godhood and shoved it into one of his stallions had been galling, what the fuck - the ‘altar’ is set up and Romario is kneeling between Colonello’s legs working on his pretty sacrifice’s body and Colonello is making the sort of sweet sound that would make his cock rock hard if it would just react, damnit. It does have his stallion-self prancing slightly, cock emerging from its sheath, and he reaches out and sinks into the stallion’s mind.

He barely restrains the horse long enough for Romario to finish what he’s doing; Colonello smells like he’s deep in estrus to the stallion, and between that and the link between the blond and his godhood, all he - they - want to do is sink into the tight, quivering sheath between his hêtairêkôs’s thighs and pump it full of his seed. They prance and lunge, driving home in one smooth manoeuvre, added by the way his hêtairêkôs is tied, and Colonello screams in the same way as a mare abruptly mounted, making him even more frantic to fill the man - mare - with his seed. 

He curls mental fingers around the pleasure centre in the stallion’s brain, holding off the horse’s orgasm until he can feel Colonello’s sheath tighten around their cock. He rears and slams in one last time, wishing for his full stamina; he’d been without his hêtairêkôs for six weeks, and he was as addicted to this pleasure as Colonello was to being taken. The next fourteen years were going to be _hard_ in all but one sense of the word, and if he wasn’t careful he was going to develop Lightning Flames out of frustration. But he doesn’t and he coaxes the stallion to withdraw from his hêtairêkôs and urges him back to the main herd before he drops back out of commune with the horse.

“You’re a Sun, right, Romario? Can you check Colonello’s okay, now, please? He should be, but -” Romario crosses to the blond and he circles to watch as his high priest kneels between his consort’s thigh and inspects the puffy, brutalised opening into his body, currently leaking the stallion’s seed, and he scrapes together just enough of what’s left of his divine fire to jolt Romario into leaning forward and lapping at the gapping, swollen hole. After that first ‘push’ though, Romario continues willingly enough, and he grins as he feels the bond settle into place comfortably; he’d hit two birds with one stone. His high priest was _his_, and those around him would think it was a Guardian bond in the modern parlance, and his hêtairêkôs was safely reclaimed, and if they had to, they’d recreate this ritual at every full moon until he could participate directly, or Colonello conceived a demi-god in the old way. The stallion his godhood had taken refuge in was almost one himself, anyway, thanks to his bad habits before and that would only make things easier. 

“Fuck, Dino, you’ve been being gentle with me, haven’t you?” Colonello’s voice is raspy, the scream having damaged his vocal cords. “How the fuck did unclaimed sacrifices survive that, when that was the normal way to offer them to you?”

“Luck. Or preparation, though that was less common because it was too easy to render them unsuitable. I was rather feral at that point. There’s a reason I asked Romario to prepare you while I held myself back.” Colonello shuts his eyes, muscles tensning and relaxing deliberately.

“Do I have to wait another month before we do that again? I hadn’t realised how much pain I was in until it stopped, and as disturbing as that was in some ways, it felt fucking good.”

“Hopefully you won’t need that again, but we can make arrangements now the curse has stopped trying to kill you again.” Colonello actually pouts at him and he breaks down into giggles even as Romario pushes his hand inside his hêtairêkôs to make sure there was no internal damage from the rough treatment. Once the man has reassured himself and withdrawn, he circles round to Colonello’s head, and touches the blond’s cheek to draw his attention again. “Want Romario’s cock down you throat before we return to the main house? He’s hard from watching you with the stallion, and my new high priest deserves a reward, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Boss -” Romario’s voice contains a note of protest, but Colonello grins, and tilts his head in acknowledgement.

“Come here, Romario. Dino and I had a ritual to this, and we’re not done yet. You won’t mind standing in for him for this, do you? I like this bit of it; like the feel of a hot cock sliding over my tongue and then pushing into my throat. It’s intimate and feels incredible, thanks to the way Dino claimed me. In some ways, it’s even better than being taken anally -” Romario squeaks. It’s adorable. 

He slides back into the trees, giving Romario the illusion of privacy; he doubts that his high priest has adjusted enough to be able to perform in front of someone who was chibi sized. He still watches though; Colonello is _his_. His to cherish, his consort, and it ached to have to ask his high priest to do this on his behalf. The ritual preparation had been bad enough; he enjoyed licking his own open and carefully preparing them, but there was a precedent for someone else to do that, especially with a stallion-sacrifice. This was new. He’d have to find a way to balancing things when he was adult again; perhaps Romario could be he and Colonello’s toy to play with? That might work. It would certainly ease his jealous possessiveness.

Romario is incredibly gentle with Colonello and he’s amused with the way it frustrates his pretty consort. It takes almost ten minutes of coaxing before Romario presses all the way into Colonello’ throat, and then there’s a mischevious hum from his hêtairêkôs and the man’s hips buck, dragging more pleased sounds from Colonello, creating a gorgeous reciprocal loop, where Colonello made sounds that made it clear he was enjoying himself, and they drove Romario into moving harder and faster and that dragged more of those sounds from his hêtairêkôs and there, Romario was using Colonello properly, and Colonello was enjoying himself and if he was adult-sized he’d curl around Romario’s form and impale him on his own cock.

The thought must have linked across the divide between his mind and that of the stallion that held his godhood, and he swears and shuts his eyes as the stallion galloped back into the clearing, already unsheathed, and he dives into the horse’s mind, trying to divert him from his new goal; better they mounted Colonello again than take the completely unprepared Romario.

He fails, and reaches for his godhood instead, bending it to his will; he’d been a horse god for five millennia, and he would not kill his own high priest in his desperation to be whole and reclaim that which was his. The fire wraps around Romario just before the stallion’s cock forces its way inside his body and the Sun shrieks in much the same way Colonello had as he was abruptly reshaped by raw divine fire to be able to survive what was going on. 

(The stallion was in heaven. This mare was the second tightest and definitely the hottest he’d ever had, and if this was the price of sharing his mind then he would be willing to keep doing so as long as he got to add the two mares he’d serviced to his herd and they paid for his protection with many, many foals. They’d both smelled fertile, and he and his god could share the results; it wouldn’t be the first time that either human or divine blood had been introduced to the herd. The foals would be the future lead mares of the herd; far more intelligent than most were.)

Romario shrieks and writhes beneath them, pinned between their cock and Colonello’s throat, and he keeps shoving the stallion’s divine fire into the man, desperate for this not to end like some of the early sacrifices. He didn’t want him dead! He’d never wanted his sacrifices to die like this, even if their bodies had felt incredible around his cock, so hard and tight and slick with blood that smelt delicious, and just the thought of it has the stallion’s hips frantically rutting its thick cock into Romario, tearing him open enough for the entire length to get inside and then flaring, pouring even more of his fire inside the man along with thick, sticky seed.

He peels himself apart from the stallion and unties Colonello from the altar. It was awkward working around the locked together forms of the stallion, his hêtairêkôs and his high priest, especially with chibi hands and an adult mind that just wanted to make use of his hêtairêkôs’s open, slick hole.

Damnit, it was that thought that had gotten him into trouble in the first place!

This time he coaxes the stallion away from the altar and takes him back to ther herd, using the tiny bit of his fire he has available to him to tip the lead mare into estrus to ensure his distraction, and then returns to the clearing to find Romario asleep, head in Colonello’s lap, body bright with divine fire and healing slowly. “What happened, Dino?”

“I didn’t think aboout the consequences of him being here. And I still have my adult mind. This body just doesn’t react to those thoughts. I wanted to mount Romario, so the stallion mounted him for me.”

“Ah. Come here.” He crosses to his hêtairêkôs and the blond reaches out, pulling him into a hug and inside his side. “I don’t think I’ve said thank you, yet. I saw what the curse is doing to Colonel Mirch, and you saved me from that.” He buries his head in the man’s sholder. “You could have let Kawahira take me, or left the curse to consume me, but you didn’t. If you can get relief from how the curse has affected you by sharing that stallion’s mind and servicing me, then I want you to keep doing it, okay? I suspect Romario will say something similar when he’s healed back up again; he’s from the family, too, and you’ve done a lot for us, Dino.” He nods rubbing his cheek against Colonello’s and his consort hums in satisfaction. “Now, we should go back to the main house. Can you find our horses? Perhaps not your stallion, though. I don’t think either of us is up to round two.”


End file.
